Read Online The Loner: Seven Days to Die by J.A. Johnstone - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.A. Johnstone
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Kid’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t seen a whipping post when he was first brought in to Hell Gate Prison, but he hadn’t been in good shape then, either. He could have overlooked it.
The idea that Fletcher intended to have him whipped was both horrifying and repellent. He shot to his feet and exclaimed, “You can’t do that!”
“I can do anything I want,” Fletcher said coldly. “I’m the warden here. Inside this prison, my word is law, and you should have thought of that before you defied me, Bledsoe.”
One of the guards took hold of The Kid’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t make this any worse than it has to be.”
“This is inhuman!” The Kid raged, still looking across the desk at the warden.
“So is robbing banks. So is murdering guards.” Fletcher gave a curt nod. “Take him.”
Another guard reached for The Kid’s other arm, but before he could grasp it, The Kid suddenly twisted and struck out at the man already holding him. His fist whipped around and crashed into the guard’s jaw, knocking him loose.
The Kid lunged forward, trying to get across the desk so that he could reach Fletcher. He thought wildly that if he could get his hands on the warden, he might be able to force the guards to back off. With Fletcher as his hostage, he might even be able to bluff his way out of there by threatening to kill the warden.
At the moment, he wasn’t too sure it would be a bluff.
But Fletcher was ready for him. The man’s hand closed around a heavy paperweight on the desk and brought it up with blinding speed. The paperweight smashed against the side of The Kid’s head and knocked him sprawling on top of the desk.
The next instant, several pairs of strong hands grabbed him and jerked him upright. A fist hit him low in the back. The kidney punch sent pain stabbing through him. He gasped and arched his back, and as he did, another fist buried itself in his belly.
The Kid doubled over, wracked by pain and nausea. The wound in his side wasn’t completely healed, and the struggle opened it up again. He felt the wet heat of fresh blood flowing.
Another punch hammered into him. His knees gave out, and he would have fallen if the guards hadn’t been surrounding him and pummeling him at close range.
“Enough!” The word lashed out from Fletcher. “He doesn’t have any more fight in him. Get him out of here and string him up to the post! I’ll be out there in a minute to deal with him myself.”
One of the guards began, “Warden, are you sure you don’t want one of us to—”
“I said I’d deal with him myself!” Fletcher roared. “It’s time this outlaw scum was taught a lesson…and by God, I’m going to enjoy doing the teaching!”
Chapter 12
Still stunned, The Kid was aware the guards were dragging him outside, but he couldn’t summon the strength to fight anymore. His muscles wouldn’t obey his commands.
The toes of his shoes plowed furrows in the dust as the guards hauled him around one of the barracks. He saw a thick beam standing upright in the ground. About fifty yards past it, backed up to the stone wall that ran all around the prison, was a small, squarish house built of rocks. It was probably Fletcher’s residence, The Kid thought as his brain began to function better.
His head ached intolerably from the blow with the paperweight. He tried to ignore the pain. He had a choice of agonies: his head, his belly, his kidneys, the wound in his side…
They reached the upright beam that served as a whipping post. A metal hook was attached to it about seven feet above the ground. The Kid had a pretty good idea what it was for.
A couple guards grabbed his shirt and ripped it off. In other circumstances, the warmth of the sun would have felt good on his bare chest and back.
The Kid knew what was coming, but was too battered to fight back. Outnumbered as he was, it wouldn’t have done much good to put up a fight. He regretted not being able to plant his fist
The idea that Fletcher intended to have him whipped was both horrifying and repellent. He shot to his feet and exclaimed, “You can’t do that!”
“I can do anything I want,” Fletcher said coldly. “I’m the warden here. Inside this prison, my word is law, and you should have thought of that before you defied me, Bledsoe.”
One of the guards took hold of The Kid’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t make this any worse than it has to be.”
“This is inhuman!” The Kid raged, still looking across the desk at the warden.
“So is robbing banks. So is murdering guards.” Fletcher gave a curt nod. “Take him.”
Another guard reached for The Kid’s other arm, but before he could grasp it, The Kid suddenly twisted and struck out at the man already holding him. His fist whipped around and crashed into the guard’s jaw, knocking him loose.
The Kid lunged forward, trying to get across the desk so that he could reach Fletcher. He thought wildly that if he could get his hands on the warden, he might be able to force the guards to back off. With Fletcher as his hostage, he might even be able to bluff his way out of there by threatening to kill the warden.
At the moment, he wasn’t too sure it would be a bluff.
But Fletcher was ready for him. The man’s hand closed around a heavy paperweight on the desk and brought it up with blinding speed. The paperweight smashed against the side of The Kid’s head and knocked him sprawling on top of the desk.
The next instant, several pairs of strong hands grabbed him and jerked him upright. A fist hit him low in the back. The kidney punch sent pain stabbing through him. He gasped and arched his back, and as he did, another fist buried itself in his belly.
The Kid doubled over, wracked by pain and nausea. The wound in his side wasn’t completely healed, and the struggle opened it up again. He felt the wet heat of fresh blood flowing.
Another punch hammered into him. His knees gave out, and he would have fallen if the guards hadn’t been surrounding him and pummeling him at close range.
“Enough!” The word lashed out from Fletcher. “He doesn’t have any more fight in him. Get him out of here and string him up to the post! I’ll be out there in a minute to deal with him myself.”
One of the guards began, “Warden, are you sure you don’t want one of us to—”
“I said I’d deal with him myself!” Fletcher roared. “It’s time this outlaw scum was taught a lesson…and by God, I’m going to enjoy doing the teaching!”
Chapter 12
Still stunned, The Kid was aware the guards were dragging him outside, but he couldn’t summon the strength to fight anymore. His muscles wouldn’t obey his commands.
The toes of his shoes plowed furrows in the dust as the guards hauled him around one of the barracks. He saw a thick beam standing upright in the ground. About fifty yards past it, backed up to the stone wall that ran all around the prison, was a small, squarish house built of rocks. It was probably Fletcher’s residence, The Kid thought as his brain began to function better.
His head ached intolerably from the blow with the paperweight. He tried to ignore the pain. He had a choice of agonies: his head, his belly, his kidneys, the wound in his side…
They reached the upright beam that served as a whipping post. A metal hook was attached to it about seven feet above the ground. The Kid had a pretty good idea what it was for.
A couple guards grabbed his shirt and ripped it off. In other circumstances, the warmth of the sun would have felt good on his bare chest and back.
The Kid knew what was coming, but was too battered to fight back. Outnumbered as he was, it wouldn’t have done much good to put up a fight. He regretted not being able to plant his fist
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